


Fred

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Holiday: Other, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim ventures into the world of Anthro department parties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fred

## Fred

by Selkie

* * *

Fred 

"I suppose a nice hostage situation with a bus full of children would be too much to ask for." Jim said, his eyes making a careful survey of the anthropology building. 

"It's a party, Jim. It's supposed to be a festive affair. It's not like anyone's going to pull your toe nails out with a pair of pliers." 

"But this group would go into an hour long dissertation on the cultural effects of the introduction of socket wrench sets into the Whatzabezinger culture. And just who is this Fred guy anyways?" He continued to grumble as the two men got out of the truck and made their way into the building. 

"Those are my colleagues you're ripping on, and most of them aren't that bad. Really. And there never was an actual Fred. It's just a name that got settled on for the party back in the 1960's when some people decided that calling it a Christmas Party wasn't inclusive enough, calling it the Winter Break Party was dull, and calling it the Christmas, Kwanzaa, Solstice, Hanukkah, and everything else anthropology department party took up too much space on the flyer. So they started calling the party Fred." 

"Isn't making the party male a little sexist for your group, Chief?" He teased. 

"Actually, in alternate years we celebrate Wilma." They reached the second floor, where they saw an overly wide hallway already filled with people. A table full of name tags blocked them from going any farther. 

"Hey Blair." The long-haired blond behind the table flipped through a few pages of computer print-outs. Jim had the feeling he'd seen the man while he was surfing a couple of times, but he didn't have a name. 

"Hi, Cory. We're supposed to be paid up. I dropped the money off at Sheila's cube last week." 

"Yep, gotcha here." He made a couple of marks on the print out, and set it down. Jim noticed the Fred Flintstone cookie jar on the table next to the tags. "Now I just need to see some state issued i.d., and you're in." 

"I.d.?" Blair said as he automatically reached for his wallet. "It's not like someone would try to sneak in here." 

"New policy this year, because we're serving alcohol, and someone's bringing his cop boyfriend to the party this year, and we've got a lot of underage people who shouldn't get served when he's around." Cory rolled his eyes. "So you show proof of age, and I give you a nice green name tag which lets you drink out of the big kid's punch bowl. No i.d., and you get a red name tag, which means you're stuck with Kool Aid and Diet Coke all night." 

The two collected their green name tags, and headed into the crowded hallway. They hung coats on a hallway coat rack, Jim glad he had left his gun and badge back at the loft. It was way too hot to wear more than a shirt in the room, and the gun would have drawn more questions than it was worth. 

"I don't see why we need to wear name tags. You always said that the department was small enough that everyone knew everyone else." 

"We do. But we don't know everyone else's kids, or partners, or dates, and it helps cut down that confusion." Jim looked around and noticed a surprising number of kids surrounding a man dressed as Santa. 

"And since anthropologists are normally lucky if they can remember what country they're supposed to be in when they wake up in the morning, anything that cuts down on the confusion is a good thing." A man carrying a baby and a pale woman moved in front of them. 

"Tim, Rachel, I didn't realize you were back from Hungary. It's good to see you!" Blair was grinning as he hugged the three people. 

"We got back in last week. It was a great eleven months of field work, but all our family is in Seattle, and no way was Grandma Scarafani going to miss Katya's first Christmas." 

"Definitely good you're back. Jim, these are Tim Miller, Rachel Scarafani, and Katerina Anna Miller-Scarafani. Katya's the little one there." Quick handshakes threaded their way around a somewhat squirming baby. "Tim's a fellow grad school slave. We started the program at the same time. Tim, Rachel, this is Jim Ellison of the Cascade P.D., my date." 

"So what were you doing in Hungary?" Jim asked. 

"Working on my dissertation. Just because a place has indoor plumbing doesn't mean that you can't do field work there." Tim proceded to go into a discussion on the effects of the Soviet cultural occupation of post World War II Hungary. Jim listened politely for a few minutes before excusing himself to look for the bar. 

Promising that he would not serve minors, he liberated a pair of beers from the drink table and headed upstream back through the crowd. He caught sight of Blair, and noticed with a little relief that Tim and Rachel had been replaced by an older couple, the man holding a serving tray, and the woman wearing a strand of Christmas Tree lights twisted around her head. 

Then the smell hit Jim. It was awful, worse than slogging through the sewers, worse than Blair's algae shakes, and worse than a ten day old corpse. Jim froze, desperately trying to dial down his sense of smell, and wondering what had died in the hall. Mission accomplished, Jim blinked a few times before noticing that Blair was trying to get his attention. He cautiously made his way over to the group, and noticed the smell seemed to be getting worse. 

"Jim, this is Dr. Erik Saari, and this is Dr. Margaret Saari. Erik's on my committee here." 

"Good to meet you." As Jim passed one of the beers to Blair he offered a hand to shake, and Erik offered the tray. As he identified the source of the smell, Jim's eyes started to water badly. 

"Lutfisk?" Erik asked. "It's a fish soaked in a lye solution. Making it was a big Christmas tradition when I was growing up in North Dakota." 

"No thanks." He backed up a couple of steps, hoping that the lutfisk wouldn't send him into a zone out in the middle of the party. 

"Yeah, yeah. Everyone always talks about how Fred's supposed to be about celebrating the season, and celebrating different cultures, but every year, I bring along a symbol of my cultural heritage, and people seem to get offended at me." Jim didn't know what to say. Academics could be touchy, and the last thing he wanted to do was get Blair in trouble with one of the people on his committee. 

"And every year, I tell you to make the cookies instead. You just bring the fish because you like the dramatic effect." Margaret came to his rescue. "And I think I just saw Bob Wentzel come in by Sheila's office. He actually likes the stuff." She grabbed her husband's arm, and with a look of shared commiseration at Jim, guided him away. 

"Erik's a good guy. He's just a practical joker big time. You should have seen what he tried to pull with one of Callie's grant applications last year." 

"What happened." Jim said, sipping his beer. 

"Well it started with her needing a couple of recommendations from some really weird places, and ended up with..." 

"Hey Blair, glad you made it." Blair was interrupted by a high-pitched voice which turned out to be attached to an attractive brunette carrying a large blue bag. For a second, Jim felt a wave of jealousy. 

"Hi Carly." 

"Hey, can I ask a favor from you." 

"Sure, you can ask, but no guarantees here." 

"You know how Zach and I were supposed to give the Hanukkah talk? Well Zach came down with the flu today, so he can't make it. And I just can't handle talking in front of a crowd on my own." 

"Sure I'd be glad to help out." 

"Good. We're on just as soon as Lydia finishes up her talk on the Inuits." The girl suddenly changed mental gears. "And you must be Jim, if the rumor mill's true. I'm Carly Lawrence. I had your partner for Anthro 101 a couple years ago, and now I'm going to get my B.A. in it in May. Sounds like Lydia is finishing up now." She started to propel the two men towards an open classroom door. 

"Another Fred tradition." Blair explained to his puzzled partner. "There's always a room set aside for people to talk about how other cultures celebrate this time of year. It really is amazing how many cultures have some sort of ceremony or celebration about the winter solstice." 

After they went through the door, Jim took a seat on the fringes of the group of people gathered in the room. Blair and Carly briefly conferred as they emptied things out of her bag, including a menorah. Blair quickly slid candles in their places, and then began to speak. 

"Hanukkah traces its roots back to a time when Judea was ruled by a Syrian king. The king ordered Jews to worship his Greek gods, follow Greek customs, and turn their backs on their own faith and culture. 

Not surprisingly, the people rebelled against King Antiochus, and after a three year war, the Syrians were driven out of Judea. Then the country started the task of repairing all the damage the Syrians had caused, including the desecration of the Temple of Jerusalem. 

The Maccabees, the leaders of the country, worked hard to remove the Greek symbols and statues and they were finally ready to reopen the temple. But there was a problem. In every Jewish house of worship, there is a small lamp which shows the eternal light..." 

Jim watched Blair as he told the story of the lamp with only the smallest amount of oil that because of a miracle stayed lit for eight days. He never talked about any of this at home, Jim thought, even when he was helping me decorate the Christmas tree. Was it some sort of anthropologist's habit Blair had, to try to blend into the new culture so much that there were just large pieces of his life that he didn't talk about in order to not disturb the natives? For too many people and too many tribes, religion was one of the three biggest hot buttons a culture had. As he watched Blair light four candles on the menorah, Jim decided to ask Blair if he wanted to put a menorah across the table from the advent wreath. 

Then Blair was through with his part of the presentation. At Carly's request, he passed out small dreidels to the crowd as she talked about the modern celebration of the holiday. Jim rubbed the top between his fingers, the smooth paint on the sides nearly sending him into a tactile zone out. 

"Jim?" Blair lightly shook his arm, a look of concern on his face. "You zoning here?" 

"No, I'm fine Chief. You did a.... nice job there." 

"Nice?" 

"Yeah. I feel like I got to learn something new about Blair there." 

"Well Naomi was never big on celebrating hoildays or anything, but it's always kind of neat to be able to talk about your roots, you know." He paused. "Anyways, we were the last little presentation here, and I think everyone's just about ready to move the party over to the auditorium downstairs." After Blair grabbed their beers, they made their way back into the hallway. 

"So what's in the auditorium?" 

"Skits of course. You should have seen them last year. Tim did an impression of the Dean of Students that was so dead on the Dean wanted him put on probation. Unfortunately, fatherhood seems to have mellowed..." 

**_BANG_**

The loud noise rattled Jim's eardrums, and his reflexes kicked into cop mode. Reaching for his missing gun, he started to shove Blair behind him before he fully assessed the situation. 

Then he relaxed. The noise originated from a large ceremonial drum near the buffet table. Erik Saari stood next to the drum, prepared to hit it again if the crowd didn't quiet down. 

"Can I have your attention, guests?" After the drum, the hall had fallen silent. Now people started to turn toward Erik. 

"Thank you. For thousands of years, humanity has kept calendars and worshipped gods, for as long as humanity has sought answers and explanations to the world. And nearly every culture has some sort of celebration of the solstices. Theese feasts may have a thousand different names, but they all celebrate the end of growing darkness, and the beginning of the return of light. I would like to make a toast here." Erik picked up his wine glass. 

"To light." 

"To light." The crowd responded A hundred grasses were thrust into the air, and drinks were downed. Jim sipped down the last of his own beer. 

"Okay, now it's time for the big show down in the auditorium. If you have kids under 12, Monica Rivera has a couple of crafts projects going in Room 225." 

"What's up with that, Chief?" He said as they walked toward the stairs. 

"It's not as raw as I'm told it used to be, but the skits have a tradition of being kind of bawdy, and you don't want to be driving home from the party, and having your five year old ask what a scrotum piercing is." 

"Got it Chief." Dodging through the crowd, they slid into seats near the back of the room. 

The skits started, and even though Jim hardly knew any of the people being lampooned, he still understood the humor on a good number of them. 

"Hello class. I'm sorry to say that Mr. Sandburg won't be able to make it to class today." Blair groaned as Carly walked onto the stage wearing a gray wig. 

"That's supposed to be Sheila. She's a secretary in the department who's been mothering grad students for the past thirty years." He whispered the explanation. 

"He just called me to say that he is currently a hostage in a bank robbery. He should be back in on Wednesday, but in the meantime, he has asked me to show you the movie 'The Gods Must Be Crazy'." 

There were a few quick scenes about other TAs, including Tim dining at the most expensive restaurants in Budapest as part of his research, and billing the department. 

"Hello class. I'm sorry to say that Mr. Sandburg won't be able to make it to class today." Carly walked back on the stage. "He just called to say that he is currently being held at gunpoint by a frustrated former pro football player who is despondent that his line of high fat, high calorie spaghetti sauces is a commercial failure. He should be back in on Wednesday, but in the meantime, he has asked me to show you the movie 'The Gods Must Be Crazy'." More laughs from the audience. 

"Chief, what do you tell these people about police work, anyways?" 

"I don't really tell them much. And with this group of fertile minds, they'll either use the open records laws to dig out the truth, or make something up." A few more TA scenes passed before Carly was back on stage. 

"Hello class. I'm sorry to say that Mr. Sandburg won't be able to make it to class today. He just called to say that he is currently being held hostage by a group of doomsday cultists who believe they are getting instructions from God by way of a potato shaped like Michael Jackson's face. Provided the world does not come to an end before then, he said he will be back for class on Wednesday, and in the meantime, he has asked me to show you the movie 'The Gods Must Be Crazy'." 

"I guess I do miss a lot of class, but no way do I show as many movies as she says." Blair grumbled. 

"And it's always for a good cause, Chief." A few more scenes passed. 

"Hello class. I'm sorry to say that Mr. Sandburg won't be able to make it to class today. He said only that his partner had him tied up for the afternoon, and it is not up to me to inquire into others' private lives. He should be back in on Wednesday, but in the meantime, he has asked me to show you the movie 'The Gods Must Be Crazy'." Blair shrunk into his seat trying to appear as small as possible. 

"You have fantasies you aren't telling me about, Chief?" 

"Only Carly Lawrence's head on a platter. Fortunately, they're starting to run out of TAs to make fun of." 

"Hello class, I have one final announcement. I'm sorry to say that Mr. Sandburg won't be able to make it to class today. It seems that a deranged gunman dropped him from a helicopter into Cascade Wild Animal Park, right in the middle of the Lions of the Serengetti enclosure right before feeding time. He should be back in on Wednesday, but in the meantime, I have a special treat for all of you." Carly waved the videocassette in her hand. "Yes, he has asked me to show you the movie'The Gods Must Be Crazy, Part II'." More laughter from the audience, and the topic of the skits went from TAs to clueless undergrads to the Board of Regents. Finally, the skits finished, and the two men went back upstairs to get their jackets. 

"I wish we didn't have the 10 p.m. shift for the O'Malley stakeout. It would have been nice to stay a little longer." Blair said as he wound his scarf around his neck. 

"Well at least we've got New Year's Eve off this year. Holiday schedules always screw everyone up somehow." Jim caught sight of a bit of a plant hanging from the ceiling near the coat rack. "Chief, I want you to take three steps to your right for me." 

"Why's that?" 

"Mistletoe." Jim stepped next to Blair and embraced the other man. "Gotta respect all those traditions you know." Jim slid his mouth against Blair's, lips and tongue caressing the other man, first gently, then more forcefully. Just as it felt like things were about to get interesting, Jim was startled by a round of applause from the other people gathered near the coat rack. 

"The mistletoe gets people every year." An elderly woman with Sheila on her name tag smiled at the twosome. 

"Happy Fred, Jim." 

"Happy Fred, Chief." 

End 


End file.
